Quiver
by Lapis Love
Summary: AU/AH. The sound of her private elevator arriving, her heels hitting the floor, her coat shrugging off is enough to make him nervous but even more to stand at attention, await her instructions. He thinks she doesn't see how hard he works, how much of his time he devotes to her, but she does. But Bonnie Bennett isn't impressed. She wants more.


**A/N:** I told myself I wasn't going to start any new stories. *sighs* I'm putting this out to see if there's any genuine interest. If there is I will continue, but following chapters may be slow to arrive as I want to try to work on this as much as I can as to avoid going months without updating.

 **Fair warning:** Characters will be OOC at times. Let's try to keep an open-mind.

 **Disclaimer:** These characters belong to LJ Smith/CW. Copyright infringement never intended.

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Prologue

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"I need someone who is quick and fast on his feet. You slow me up on any occasion during any situation, and I'll have to reevaluate your future as my assistant," she jerked the Maserati into fifth gear going 90 along the freeway.

He wondered what he had gotten himself into.

"You have my itinerary?" she gave him a sidelong glance.

"Umm, yes," he stuttered and cleared his throat remembering to project confidence. "I downloaded it just as you instructed."

"Check the time, where am I going next and find the fastest route for me to get there. And hurry up because I'm running out of road."

He stared at her strangely because they were on a highway with plenty of miles of road left to drive, but he understood what she was actually saying. They would need to take an exit to start on the next leg of their journey, and by the speed she was driving they were approaching that exit very soon.

"You have an eleven o'clock meeting with Markos Guidry at the factory," fumbling with his tablet, he plugged the address into Google maps.

"Turn that off," she snapped.

His head shot in her direction like she was insane. But he listened, turning off his tablet which he placed on his lap so she wouldn't see his hands shaking.

"There's a map in the glove compartment. Pull it out and find me the fastest route. Now," she said quietly but firmly.

"You want me to give you directions via a map when I could just google or plug it into your GPS?"

"You do realize I could have done that myself, yes?"

He swallowed and resisted squeezing the back of his neck, a tick he did to alleviate stress. He hadn't read a map since he was a kid. And maybe she didn't want him to really try to make sense of a map thereby getting them all kinds of lost. Perhaps this was a metaphorical test. A psychological test like the military did to suss out weakness, lack of logic, and cognitive toughness.

"How do I get to the factory?" she rounded a curve in the highway blowing past electric hybrids and late model sedans.

He closed his eyes seeing the address. He had googled it earlier curious about the places she visited, the sites that fell under her inspection. Could he remember how to get there? He knew this metropolis good enough to find his way no matter where he was.

"Take exit 109 A. That'll put us on the 504 and from there we'll take exit…32."

"Ah, looks like someone did his homework."

Taking a chance, he looked at her again. Hair parted on the left side and slicked back into a sleek ponytail, the custom made suit that was probably hand stitched by a major Italian designer, the diamond studs in her ears, the pendant necklace adorned on a slender brown neck, the rock on her finger that winked gaudily in the sunlight. She was the quintessence of privilege and power.

"I took the initiative, ma'am."

"Ma'am," she enunciated the syllable as if she was sipping fine wine. "Do I look that old?"

His eyes widened and cheeks redden because he was positive he offended her. "No, no you don't. You're…" he stopped. Lauding her with compliments during this unorthodox job interview he knew was a bad idea. "No, Miss Bennett, I was just being polite."

Her head cocked to the side in interest. "Is that something you find useful? Being polite?"

"I know when to be a kiss ass and when to be an asshole."

She giggled and laughed, "Your candor is appreciated. Why do you want to work for me?"

Should he go with the truth that every other engineer positon he applied for he was shut down because he lacked experience though he had the education and degrees? That it was this or bartending? She said she appreciated his honesty, but he didn't want her to think she was a last resort either.

He chose a respectable medium, "It would be a wonderful opportunity to learn more about the operational infrastructure of a…"

"No," she cut him off. "I don't want you to talk to me like you're reading from a fucking textbook. Be real with me, because if I hire you we're going to be spending _a lot_ of time together. And if I can't get a good feel for who you truly are, well this is going to be a painful experience…for you."

He sat up straighter in the upholstered seat. His career advisor did mock interviews with him coaching him on how to pace himself while answering questions, to think and anticipate and have a solution ready to dispense at the snap of the fingers. He could bullshit his way through an interview with a hiring manager, but the person he'd actually be reporting to, was a whole other matter.

Yet the way she said it would be a painful experience, what did she mean by that? He could ponder over that later, obsess about it as he drove himself home at the end of the day freaking out if she found him to be a waste of time, an idiot, out of his depth.

"I've applied to twenty-seven companies and they told me the same thing, I lack experience," he began. "I want to be an engineer but I also need to eat and pay back on loans. For whatever reason you plucked my resume out of a pool of probably a thousand, and I'm here because of gratitude and because beggars can't be choosers."

He couldn't see it but he could feel she was smirking.

"Hmm," she murmured almost absently. "If I decided to take a chance on you, would you have a problem working for a woman?"

"No. I was a TA for Dr. Joyce Stein who was the only female tenured professor in the engineering department. She busted my balls plenty."

At that she laughed. "You're also a year older than me. You don't have an issue that someone younger has amassed greater success?"

He felt the tie around his neck tighten and the tiny veins in his head bulge. Was that a dig at his pride? "Is it a problem for you?"

"It's not. Why would it be?" she laughed again.

Her laughter died when the phone rang and a name lit up on her hands free system. Cassadine. He never took his eyes away as he saw her lips pucker as if she were sucking on a lozenge, and he wondered if she'd answer or hit the ignore button. But she answered and a deep angry voice filled the car.

"You evil vindictive _bitch_. I'm going to slash your throat when I see your little ass! You crossed a line!"

He flinched. She didn't. Her hand remained relaxed and fluid on the steering wheel.

"There are no lines with me," she replied in that same lilting cadence. "I told you that. Not my fault you chose to learn the hard way."

"You honestly don't care you've run my family into the ground. That you've run _me_ into the ground?"

"How could I run something into the ground when it was already there? I did you a favor. You can start over, Cassadine. It's what you wanted, yes?" she crooned as if soothing an errant child. "You said you could handle whatever I dished out. You proved yourself wrong."

"You have no heart."

"I'm in the middle of something, Cassadine," she hung up.

She pressed harder on the gas going a hundred. He was nervous, anticipating hearing the siren of a black and white Ford Taurus, seeing flashing blue and white lights. She took the route he suggested and within minutes they had arrived at the sprawling factory. She rolled the Maserati to a stop in a reserved spot, unclipped her belt.

"Welcome to B.I.T.C.H.," she bit into her cheek.

He shook his head, rueful. That name which was an acronym for Bennett Information Technology Consulting House.

"This is just one of seven facilities we have here in the US. We have one in Japan…"

"Another in Sydney and Fredrikstad, Norway," he finished.

"And you know what we do here?"

"Make artificial sentient androids."

"Very good."

They climbed out of the car, his eyes riveted on the steel building where a thought was conceptualized, built, and shipped to eager customers domestically and internationally. His blood pumped with excitement, his hands itched to see the latest in human innovation. Gripping his portfolio he fell into step beside her.

She swung in front of him, hand on his chest, stopping him from taking another step. Seeing her up close, correcting his assumption her eyes were hazel—they were green—and that her mouth was off centered, he sucked in a breath having forgotten how undeniably beautiful she was.

"Yes, Miss Bennett?" he tried not to think about her touching him.

"There's something you need to understand…everything Cassadine said about me is true. There are times I'm vindictive, a bitch, maybe even evil, but I'm always honest and not everyone can handle the truth. If you make it through today, you have the job."

"I think I'm up for the challenge."

She smiled then. "There was something else he said about me that's true…I don't have a heart."

He didn't believe that, but if that's what she wanted to believe about herself he wouldn't try to correct her, and well he didn't know her enough to challenge that statement.

"I want to look down at the sky, Damon Salvatore and you can help me or hinder me, it's your choice," she stepped aside, "Make it. Now."

Straightening his tie, Damon brushed past Bonnie Bennett who smiled and watched his broad back head toward the front of the factory. She was going to have so much fun breaking him.

 **A/N: Where I'm going with this? We shall see. I'm still working the kinks out myself. Lemme know your thoughts. Thank you for reading!**


End file.
